


Rumour has it...

by Obsidian_Operative



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Acquaintances to Lovers, Drunken Shenanigans, Humor, M/M, Romance, Security Surveillance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-24
Updated: 2020-03-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:34:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22885621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Obsidian_Operative/pseuds/Obsidian_Operative
Summary: There's only one Cardassian remaining on the station - and rumours are that he's more than he purports to be.   Julian Bashir, newly appointed CMO, has never been able to resist a good spy thriller...
Relationships: Julian Bashir & Elim Garak, Julian Bashir/Elim Garak
Comments: 105
Kudos: 124





	1. Up and Running

**Author's Note:**

> Finally dipping my toe into the pool of DS9 fiction.
> 
> My thanks go to the wonderful Syaunei for doing a spot of beta'ing and for her fantastic support!

With a self-indulgent smile, Dr J. S. Bashir, CMO on the former Cardassian-run space station, Deep Space Nine, looked around the newly refurbished infirmary and felt a small glow of pride. It had taken a few days to reclaim the medical facility from the chaotic mess left behind after the Cardassian withdrawal, but at last it was done. Well, almost done - just a case of getting the main computer system tied in to the subsidiary medical one and running a top level systems check on the equipment and the new medical unit would be good to go. 

He drummed his fingers on the nearby console and checked the time. He was impatient to get the job finished and was waiting for the chief of engineering to arrive and carry out the checks. Not long now… He stared around the facility and let his mind wander a little as his stomach fluttered with an almost childish, nervous excitement. 

Frontier medicine… Well, that was a phrase he wouldn't be using anywhere but in the privacy of his own head for the foreseeable future. He had only just arrived on the station, had just been thinking how attractive Major Kira Nerys's eyes were, and was considering asking her whether she would like to meet him for a drink later, when he had used _that term_ and… Well, he didn't like to think about the result, but the memory of those dark, brown eyes flashing dangerously and a voice dripping with contempt would last a lifetime. 

He reflected ruefully that he had only been there a few days and had already managed to irritate Major Kira and the new science officer, Lieutenant Jadzia Dax, and he was sure that he'd seen Commander Sisko, the Head of Station, dive into a shop doorway when their paths had been about to cross on the Promenade a couple of days ago. 

He had hoped that DS9 would be different and that the people there would be immediately won over by his character, but it seemed as if it was going to be the same old story. Just like his time at the Academy. Smiles and kind words at first, but then a growing sense of irritation and the feeling of being treated like an over-enthusiastic puppy who was cute at first, until it chewed up a favourite slipper, or used the best rug as a toilet… Not that he had done either of those things, of course, but… Well, he was sure that he _was_ that puppy. Surely there would be some people here who would just accept him as he was. 

His thoughts were interrupted as Chief Miles O'Brien bustled into the infirmary and let a bag of tools crash down beside the console. Julian Bashir winced slightly at the noise and bit his lip before saying anything. He didn't want to add Chief O'Brien to his growing list of offended colleagues. O'Brien was a stocky man in his early middle age with a distinct brogue and, as far as Julian had seen so far, who had a permanent look of annoyance etched on his face. 

"Thank you for dropping by so quickly, Chief. Will it take long to get the system check done?" Julian was almost bouncing with his contained excitement at the thought of finally being able to get his medical facility running at full efficiency. 

His enthusiasm was short lived as he received a look from O'Brien which was rapidly heading towards irritated. Julian stepped back, hands held out in a placatory gesture. 

"Sorry. I'll… er… I'll just let you get on then, shall I?"

O'Brien gave him a curt nod and turned to the console, plucking various devices from his work-bag and immersing himself in the task, his silence made more obvious by the occasional beeps from the console. Julian forced himself to sit down and go through a few data sets which were ready to input onto the system. Once O'Brien was finished, he would be able to load the information from the data-clip and, hopefully, the whole system would be accessible.

"There. That should be good to go now," O'Brien said, straightening up and stretching his back. "Do you want me to just run through a couple of things? It's all pretty basic but there are a few little issues to do with the new system interfacing with the old one. Bloody Cardi technology!"

Julian suspected that it was only a sense of polite restraint that kept O'Brien from actually spitting as he said those words.

"Thanks, Chief. A quick run through would be appreciated, thank you."

O'Brien sat down at the console and motioned for Julian to join him. He talked the doctor through a few of the potential problems and very strongly pointed out that if any faults _did_ happen to crop up while the system was settling down, then under no circumstances was Julian to try to sort it out himself but was to call engineering for assistance immediately. 

"Well, Dr Bashir, you should be able to access through voice commands now. You'll need to initiate the voice recognition programme first, while I'm here to authorise it. You can input your own personal security and override codes once the computer has you on its system files." He gestured to the general room area and waited with eyebrows slightly raised.

Julian cleared his throat, feeling suddenly self-conscious. 

"Er… Computer. Voice identity confirmation required - medical unit. Bashir, Julian Subatoi, CMO, Deep Space Nine."

"Identity confirmation required," came the clipped female voice of the station's main computer.

"Identity confirmation code O'Brien 43085 Alpha." O'Brien chimed back.

"Identity Dr Julian Subatoi Bashir accepted for medical unit and associated station-wide programmes."

O'Brien gave Julian a rare grin and slapped him on the back. "Welcome to the system. Care to give it a quick test?" 

Julian swallowed and tried to think of something to request. 

"Computer. Give me a list of species registered as resident on the station, broken down numerically." 

The computer began to reel off a list of resident species, most of which came as no surprise to him. The majority were Humans and Bajorans, a few Ferengi, some Bolians and finally the list concluded with a single Trill, one unknown (that would be Odo, mused Julian) and one Cardassian. Julian wrinkled his brow in puzzlement and turned to O'Brien.

"A Cardassian? There's a Cardassian on DS9?"

O'Brien made a sound that was almost alien to the human vocal abilities. 

"But why? I mean, how come this one got left behind when the Cardassians withdrew?"

O'Brien grunted. 

"The story he tells is that he's unable to return to Cardassia. Some guff about him being in exile for tax issues, but believe that and you'll believe anything. As my old mother used to say, 'Truth never comes from a serpent's smile'." O'Brien gave a single, firm nod for emphasis. 

Julian managed a slightly bewildered smile in return and was about to speak when O'Brien barrelled on, his voice taking on a slightly snide tone.

"Not that he's likely to get many injuries apart from needle wounds to the fingers."

"You've lost me there," Julian admitted.

"He's a tailor. Or he _says_ he is!" O'Brien curled a lip in distaste.

"What do you mean, ' _says he is'_?" Julian felt a tiny little thrill of intrigue stirring in the pit of his stomach. 

"Ask yourself, Doctor. Every last one of the Cardassian forces and administrators pull out of Bajor and Bajoran space, yet they leave one single individual behind? Nah, he might act like an ' _artistic type_ ' and spend all his time faffing around cutting fabric and sewing sequins but mark my words, he was left here for a reason!"

"You mean, he's… a _spy_?" Julian's eyes opened wide and he felt his heart rate increase. 

"Now I didn't say _that_!" O'Brien muttered as though he realised that he had maybe said too much and giving Julian the sort of glare that he usually reserved for malfunctioning flux-couplers. "Just telling it as I see it…"

"I know absolutely nothing more than a few basics about Cardassians. There's nothing on the station files about their physiology or susceptibility to disease. What am I meant to do if he needs medical attention?" 

"As little as possible!" O'Brien snapped. Julian stared at him in amazement. O'Brien glared back, his cheeks colouring with irritation and brows drawing down angrily.

"I can't just turn someone away if they need medical attention, no matter what species they are," Julian stammered. "It would be unethical."

"Un - ethical?! Do you _know_ what they did? Have you ever had to clean up after a Cardassian raiding party has swept through a region? I very much doubt it - but let me tell you, it isn't something you'd want to do. The Cardassians don't do things by halves and what they leave in their wake is not pretty! Men left to die in the streets, women raped and killed, children…children… " O'Brien's voice choked and tailed off as he drew a deep breath. "Children slaughtered or left with no home and no family. When it comes to those… monsters… you can keep your ethics, Doctor Bashir!"

Julian stared at the man in open-mouthed confusion. He hadn't encountered such rabid xenophobia first hand before and it was actually quite a shock. "I'm sorry… I was just trying to …." but O'Brien didn't wait for the rest of the sentence, he stood up and walked away, leaving Julian staring after him. 

Well, so much for keeping the Chief off the list of people he had offended. 

Nurse Jabara, a Bajoran woman of around 40 years old and already proving herself to be worth more than her weight in latinum, walked carefully over and he looked up, his expression one of bemused puzzlement. Jabara gave him a weak smile and looked a little embarrassed as she fixed her gaze downwards to her shoes. "He fought against the Cardassians before he went into engineering. He's seen first hand what they are capable of - and so have I."

Julian smiled weakly and nodded. There was still so much he needed to learn about interpersonal skills if he wasn't going to alienate the entire space station within the first month of his contract.

He took himself into his office, replicated a mug of Tarkalean tea with extra sweetening, because he felt that he needed a sugar hit, and sat down to begin going through the newly accessible records. After a few minutes though, his mind was starting to wander and he was finding himself wondering about this lone Cardassian. Out of interest, he called up the medical files for the individual. 

Or he tried to. 

Strangely, the single reference to the Cardassian was confined to the list he had accessed previously. There were no individual files and further investigation showed the information pertaining to general Cardassian physiology to be woefully inadequate.

Was he really a spy? Surely not, but then, what O'Brien had said did make some sense. A spy… a real spy. Not some fictional agent from one of his much-loved 20th century novels, but an actual, living spy.

That evening, Julian curled up on his sofa with a large mug of sweet Tarkalean tea and one of his padd-novels, immersing himself in the excitement of the storyline. He'd read this particular one so many times that he could probably recite it verbatim, but it was one of his favourites and featured his favourite character of the genre, Commander James Bond. A man who could save the world from any number of cat-wielding megalomaniacs (whilst single-handedly fighting off sharks or avoiding serious damage from a strategically aimed laser beam), always got the beautiful girl with a suggestive name and still found time to indulge in a quick Martini or two… 

Shaken, not stirred. 

Julian's mind drifted gently sideways onto the subject of the spy closer to home. He had never met a Cardassian face to face before, although he had seen a couple on the comms screens during his first mission soon after his arrival on DS9. Both Gul Dukat and Gul Jasad had come across as brash, arrogant military men who quite obviously had little or no real respect for the new regime on the space station. 

Julian blushed a little when he remembered the scorn which met his naïve suggestion that the Cardassians would listen to reason. They hadn't.

A sketchy picture was building up in his mind of the Cardassian on DS9. At first, he resembled Dukat in a smart dinner jacket and bow tie sitting at the baccarat table, but somehow Dukat in a dinner jacket didn't quite hit the mark, and the image morphed in his mind to become Dukat standing in a dark alley, wearing a slightly grubby trench-coat, collar raised, a Fedora tilted down to hide his eyes and with a thin cigarette hanging from his lips. Brooding and exuding menace. The Spy…

****


	2. A Vision Beheld

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's one of those days in the tailor's shop and the replicator's on the blink. A trip to the Replimat improves the day...

It had been a particularly trying morning in the clothing shop run by the Cardassian tailor, Garak. He had been approached by two Bajoran customers who had kept asking him to show them one thing and then changed their minds and wanted something else instead. This had gone on for almost a whole hour, after which they announced that they would need to "think about it" and had left without a word of thanks or an apology for wasting his time. 

Garak suspected that it was all done out of spite and was just another way for the Bajoran inhabitants of the station to cause him discomfort. Still, he mused, it was better than the venomous insults which he usually got, and much better than being spat at or physically hurt by the application of an _accidental_ connection of a fist with his nose. 

Such were the trials of being the sole Cardassian on the station. He was the only one there to blame for any and all of the atrocities meted out to the Bajoran people during the Cardassian occupation of their world, whether he had been involved or not. 

As if this hadn't been enough, the Lurian, Morn, had chosen that morning to drop in to get an embarrassing tear in the crotch of his tunic mended while he waited. It had taken a good deal of patience to explain to Morn that no, Garak could not mend the item while he was still wearing it, especially when the repair was in that particular area of his anatomy. To have someone walking into the shop whilst so doing would have had them both in Odo's office on an indecency charge. 

Not renowned for modesty, the Lurian had merrily stripped his tunic off in the middle of the shop and pressed it into the tailor's hands with a pleading look. He then bent Garak's ear on the subject of how the tear had occurred for what seemed like an eternity. Garak nodded and smiled in what he hoped were all the right places as he deftly stitched the tear together, trying to ignore the sight of a semi-clad Lurian who was sitting in full view of the people passing on the Promenade, slowly rotating on a chair like some sort of nightmarish mannequin. 

Once he had managed to bustle Morn out of the shop, Garak finished placing the bolts of fabric back in the racks and sighed wearily. He crossed to the small replicator in the back room of his shop and ordered a mug of red leaf tea. The replicator flashed a couple of times before a bowl of a brown, thick liquid containing something resembling a vole's trachea appeared in front of him. Garak eyed it suspiciously, watching as the trachea sank slowly under the surface, a few strange little bubbles rising in its place. 

Well, there was nothing for it. If he was going to get red leaf tea, he was going to have to brave the crowds and head for the Replimat. He cautiously pushed the bowl into the recycle area and breathed a sigh of relief when it vanished. He'd have to ask Chief O'Brien to sort the replicator out later, although he could imagine the response he'd get. With a sigh of exasperation, Garak left the shop and set off towards the Replimat. 

The Replimat was crowded as usual and Garak prepared himself for the inevitable sour looks and not-quite-whispered insults as he slid through the crowds to join a long queue for the replicators. He allowed his gaze to wander over the rest of the room and, as the crowd of chattering people parted for a split second, his eyes fell upon a man, a Human, sitting alone, sipping a mug of tea and reading from a padd. He seemed to be in a different world, somehow distant from the rest of the crowd. 

Garak was entranced. So entranced that he forgot to move with the queue and found himself nudged rudely aside by a scowling Bajoran who muttered a racial insult under his breath and closed the gap to ensure that Garak was unable to rejoin the queue.

Garak stared. 

Uniform… Starfleet. Blue… Scientific staff… Human… 

Garak continued to stare. 

Human… Not one he'd seen before… It had to be the new CMO… Dr Bas… Bah… Bashir... that was it. Well, he might just walk over and say a quick hello to welcome him to the station. It was only polite really and nobody could ever accuse Garak of being anything other than polite. After all, the young man was new there. He might be feeling a bit lost and be glad of a friendly face and a few welcoming words. 

He was also stunningly attractive, even from this distance, and Garak had always appreciated beauty in its many forms. 

Besides, he was shrewd enough in business to know that an acquaintance was always more likely to be a potential customer than was someone who didn't know you, and he had to earn money from somewhere - after all, the bottom had recently dropped out of the private Cardassian customer market and the baseline income created from the repair of Cardassian military uniforms was no longer a viable option. 

Garak straightened his tunic, drew himself up and headed towards the table and its occupant, ignoring the nervous twisting in his gut. Of course, this was certain to end in disaster with the young CMO taking one look at him and finding somewhere else that he had to be immediately, but nothing ventured…

At first, the doctor didn't seem to register that he was close, but as he passed behind him, Garak noticed the doctor's shoulders tense and saw him turn slightly in his seat to look and see who had approached him.

Garak was used to people looking at him with a variety of expressions on their faces. These days, those expressions tended to be of disgust, contempt and loathing. The look he was receiving at the moment however, was almost a novelty to him. The young doctor's expression was initially surprise, but he could also see fascination lurking in there, a bit of fear perhaps, along with… now what _was_ that? He employed what he hoped was a winning smile which he usually used to put his customers at ease.

"It's Dr Bashir, isn't it? Of course it is. May I introduce myself?" 

For a moment, he wondered if the doctor had had some sort of minor seizure as his face had remained fixed in the same expression for several seconds. It was slightly reminiscent of a small creature faced with the hypnotic stare of a Tangean Marbled Black-Back snake just before it struck. 

He made a quick mental note to re-assess his "winning smile" if this was the effect it could have.

"Er.. oh.. yes…yes… of course…" the young man managed to say, looking more than slightly nervous and taking a quick look away as if he was expecting to see a horde of armed Cardassians swarming towards them.

Garak introduced himself and took the seat opposite the doctor, the conversation a little strained, although in Garak's eyes it was an improvement on his expectations. The young officer was still there, still engaging him in conversation and hadn't bolted like a frightened vole at the sight of him. 

Garak risked a brief smile… 

Too much maybe? 

For some reason, the Human seemed to find it difficult to look him in the eye and preferred to let his gaze wander to the table top, his hands… the unruly table decoration. 

"You know…" the young doctor said, a delicate blush playing across his cheeks as he steeled himself to look directly at the Cardassian, "… some people say that you remained on DS9 as the eyes and ears of your fellow Cardassians." 

Garak groaned inwardly. It wasn't the first time, and almost certainly wouldn't be the last, that someone had suggested that he was there for a less than honest reason. Interestingly though, while most others made the accusation with contempt and bitterness, Bashir made the comment with a different look in his eyes. The young man looked intrigued and, when challenged, stammered out a nervous reply as if he knew he'd gone too far and was keen to smooth the situation. 

So… intelligent enough to be open minded. Another positive attribute in the human's favour. He may prove to be a useful contact, and in this hostile environment and with the current situation, Garak knew that he needed contacts. But the young man looked worried.

Garak went for what he hoped was a reassuring smile. The doctor looked slightly disturbed. 

Maybe a slight change of subject would help. 

Or showing fewer teeth… 

"As you may also know…" he was a little mortified when his remark resulted in what could only be described as a flinch, which he tried to ignore as he ploughed on, "…I have a clothing shop nearby, so if you should require any apparel, or simply wish, as I do, for a bit of enjoyable company now and then, I'm at your disposal, Doctor…" 

Goodness, had he really just said that? 

He hoped that the doctor would just take that as an innocent comment, despite it sounding like some sort of dubious suggestion more at home issued from the mouth of one of Quark's trick-turning, pay-by-the-thrill dabo girls. Surely this would be the point where the doctor would get to his feet and leave hastily amidst a plethora of excuses.

"You're very kind, Mr Garak." the doctor gave a nervous, slightly quirky smile. 

"Oh, it's just Garak… Plain, simple Garak… " Garak smiled again. This had gone better than he had hoped. Not only had he managed to get an insight into the character of the new doctor, but he had also managed to set the wheels in motion for further meetings and the suggestion of these liaisons had been met with a polite response which suggested that the nervous young man wasn't averse to the idea. 

Mission accomplished, he thought to himself, a sense of relief flooding through him. 

"Now … Good day to you, Doctor." He moved to pass behind the doctor's chair and as he did so, found his hands moving to clasp the young man's shoulders, giving a gentle, but possessive squeeze to them as he spoke over his head and felt the doctor go tense under his touch. "I'm so glad to have made such an interesting new friend today!" He turned and headed away, resisting the urge to glance back. 

****

Julian Bashir's mind was spinning madly. It had started to spin at the moment that the Cardassian had appeared at his table, so unlike his mental image of what the spy would look like that he had just sat there, open mouthed and gawping up at the man for ages. Dukat in a trench coat he most certainly was not. Julian wasn't sure at first whether or not he was disappointed. Somehow, the smiling, stockily built, softly padded, middle-aged man before him wasn't what he had been expecting. 

After a few moments though, Julian found himself thinking that the Cardassian's disguise was actually wonderful. The man looked like a tailor… He acted like a tailor… He ran a tailoring business… 

Oh, he was most definitely a spy… 

And of course, he had that sort of charisma that a spy would have. That silky, well modulated voice, the almost hypnotic hand gestures which he was sure could produce a weapon from nowhere, those beautifully sculptured facial ridges and those intense blue eyes, slanted very slightly upwards to the outside like a predator, that seemed to burn into his mind as if the Cardassian was simply able to extract information from him using them alone.

Bashir sat back in his chair. Those eyes… 

It was at the point that the Cardassian rose to depart that Bashir realised that his earlier impression of a stocky and maybe unfit person had been totally wrong. The man rose with an elegant grace and Bashir realised that the heavy tunic and mild performance was hiding a powerful man who was around his own height, broad shouldered and broad-chested like most Cardassian males. 

He winced inwardly as he played the last parts of the conversation back to himself. The hands suddenly on his shoulders had startled him, most certainly, but in a way which sent tingling sensations from top to toe. And obviously the spy wanted to see him again, to _connect_ with him… Enjoyable company… With him… Him!! 

He waited a few seconds before leaping to his feet and heading at a fast walk towards Ops, his mind spinning and a massive adrenalin surge rushing through him. He'd met The Spy! The Spy! In fact, The Spy had singled him out… It was thrilling!

His tea sat, unfinished and forgotten, on the table with just a bewildered floral display for company. 

****

Once back in his shop, Garak realised that he was all of a tremble and aghast at his own forwardness. What in the name of the State had he been thinking of, touching the human's shoulders in such a… such a _familiar_ manner? That was the problem though, was it not? He hadn't been thinking. The gesture had been driven by something deep within him, something innate and inexplicable. The need to claim his right to … to… To what exactly? Garak glared down at his traitorous hands and felt convinced that Bashir would never want to associate with him again and, for some reason, that hurt. 

In an attempt to settle his nerves, and in the absence of rokassa juice due to the malfunctioning replicator, Garak turned his attention to a commission booked earlier that day. It was for a Syma-thit'l bridal outfit, involving lots of black silk and fine beaded details, all hand sewn. For once, he had been pleased to hear, the client had planned well in advance so he would be able to take his time with the design and execution rather than having to rush it through because the client had decided they must have it the day before yesterday and expected him to perform a miracle to do this.

Garak sat and sketched a few designs for the bead work, calculating the number he would need… There, that should be perfect - black Egradian silk and beads of the finest grade of obsidian, multifaceted and polished to a rich shine, interspersed with an occasional golden micro-bead of Bajoran amber. A few calculations later and a smiling Garak was on the comms link to his regular supplier to give him a list of his requirements.

****

Julian couldn't quite understand why his appearance in Ops and the revelation about meeting _The Spy_ had gone down like the proverbial lead balloon. 

Miles O'Brien had given him several of _those looks_ and Jadzia Dax had been more than a little caustic in her remarks, implying that he had no information that the spy would be interested in. At least, that's what he thought her remark meant. He didn't even dare to look at Major Kira's expression. Her rigid shoulders and audible sigh of disgust were sufficient comment in themselves. 

He'd thought that his idea to attach a monitoring device to himself had been a good idea too and had most certainly not warranted the rolled eyes and audible snorts of derision which had greeted it. 

He spent the remainder of the day in the Infirmary, brooding over his colleagues' reactions and finding his mind continually dragging up the image of grey skin, blue eyes and scales, working the character into a few of his mental film-based espionage scenarios and sitting with a smile on his face. He began to wonder whether the Cardassian went to any of the social areas when his shop was closed for the night…

"Are you waiting for something, Doctor?" Jabara asked cautiously.

"Sorry?" Julian found his mind dragged back from the thought with a crash.

"Well, you keep looking out to the Promenade as though you are waiting for something."

"I… No… No, nothing. Just looking… " Julian blushed and forced his attention back to the padd. 

After his shift, he grabbed his padd for a little light reading that evening and began to head for the habitat ring, finding himself stopping by at Quark's bar and looking around hopefully, but the object of his interest was not to be seen and he headed back to his quarters feeling slightly disappointed. 

Over the following few days, he managed to engineer a few _chance_ meetings with the Cardassian in the Replimat. Jabara was beginning to wonder whether the new CMO was in some kind of trouble as on several occasions he had suddenly leapt to his feet, made a feeble excuse and rushed off into the crowds on the Promenade. Julian also chanced upon him once in Quark's bar when he had hoped that his subtle probing would prompt the tailor into a conversation about espionage. 

It had started in a promising way, with the Cardassian wearing an almost conspiratorial expression, so Julian had been slightly bewildered to find the conversation turning to Klingon fashion. He felt that there was a hidden meaning there somewhere, if he could only fathom it out. The discussion moved rapidly from fashion to literature and the merits of the Cardassian repetitive epics. Julian found himself slowly relaxing, swept gently along by the cadence of the Cardassian's soft tones. 

Afterwards, feeling slightly mellow after a few drinks and what turned out to be a very pleasant conversation, Julian went back to his quarters and threw himself onto the sofa with a loud sigh and a shy smile, his mind running the conversation over and over, searching for anything that might be a clue about the Cardassian's real character. He really wanted to find out more about the Cardassian sp...tailor … Preferably without having to interrupt his work with badly timed trips to the Replimat whenever he saw Garak walk past the Infirmary. He needed a plan. 

His eyes fell on an advertisement for a new type of scalpel blade… 

An idea began to unfurl. 

****

Garak spent the next few days in a cocoon of industrious fervour interspersed with a few frantic attempts to clean the floor of his shop following a surprise visit by the Klingon Duras sisters. It turned out that Klingon spittle was remarkably difficult to get out of fabric carpets and although it would be difficult for a customer to spot, _he_ knew it was there, and it offended his sensibilities. 

He broke the days up by making the occasional foray to the Replimat for his red leaf tea, as his replicator was still malfunctioning and on the off-chance that the visit might just coincide with the doctor taking a quick break, which often seemed to be the case. To his delight, when this happened, the young Human always greeted him with a warm smile and sat with him, happy to let their conversation drift along for as long as possible, invariably turning at some point to a discussion on the Cardassian epic works and those of Earth writers in comparison. The doctor had even argued about one or two elements of a Cardassian work which Garak had discussed with him… 

_Argued_ ! 

Yes, thought Garak, most enjoyable.

And he was quite delighted when his shop door hissed open one day to admit a slightly nervous looking doctor. 

"Why, Dr Bashir! What a pleasant surprise!"

"Hello Garak. I… I'm sorry, but I seem to have a small tear in my second uniform. Would you be able to mend it for me?" he held the article of clothing out for Garak to view the damage.

"Of course, Doctor. I can have that ready for you to collect in around an hour, if that is all right."

"Yes. Thanks. I'll be back later then," he muttered, and almost ran from the shop. 

Garak paused to look more closely at the damaged uniform. How strange. He had expected to see the jagged edges of a tear, after all, the doctor had _said_ it was a tear. The damage, however, was quite clearly a cut, not a tear, its edges too crisp and well defined. Garak set aside his previous work and settled down to mend the damage then folded the garment carefully and set it aside for the doctor to collect.

Garak was somewhat surprised when it happened again the following day, same problem, same sort of damage. The surprise had mellowed to a sort of resigned feeling of déjà vu when the doctor appeared in his shop for the third day in a row, again carrying a uniform draped over one arm and wearing a nervous smile. 

"You wouldn't believe it, Garak, but I've managed to get another tear in the uniform. I think there must be something around the Infirmary that keeps catching when I walk past… Er… could you…?"

Garak held a hand out to take the garment and studied the damage. Yet again, it resembled a cut, not a tear. "I can do it now, if you wanted to come back in around …"

"I could sit here and wait!" blurted Julian. 

"If you so wish, Doctor. Although I fear that I make a poor conversationalist while I'm armed with a needle and thread."

"I don't mind. Shall I get you a drink of red leaf tea from the replicator while you're busy?"

"I think the replicator is broken. I have spoken to Chief O'Brien about it, but I suppose it is low priority." 

Actually, he _had_ spoken to Miles O'Brien and the reply had been an interesting noise which sounded slightly like "Pfffft" followed by a sentence which the Universal Translator had failed to tackle but which seemed to suggest some sort of anatomical endeavour which could possibly result in the urgent need for surgery. 

Julian looked puzzled and stepped over to the machine, hitting the keys. "Maybe it was just a glitch? One Tarkalean tea extra sweet and one red leaf tea, please." The replicator buzzed and Julian gave Garak a grin bordering on smug. The grin vanished quite quickly, however, when a mug of something resembling steamed entrails and a bowl of spice pudding appeared. The pudding was topped with yet another unidentifiable piece of vole anatomy. Julian had a sneaking suspicion that it might have been reproductive in origin. 

Julian looked at Garak who merely raised a brow ridge in an almost condescending manner and turned back to his sewing.

"Doctor, why else do you think I've had to visit the Replimat every time I wanted a tea?"

Julian gave a sheepish grin. "Well, I hoped it might be that you found my company so riveting that you couldn't stay away…" he quipped.

The blush that spread across his face as he spoke made Garak's heart rate increase and his hands shook. 

"Ow!! Tssak'ot!!" The Cardassian curse was spat out as Garak shook his hand which he had just managed to jab with the needle. In a flash, the doctor was there, taking his hand and examining it closely. 

"Doctor, really, I'm fine." He made to pull the hand away but found it held quite firmly by strong, slender fingers. Julian Bashir was still staring at the hand, but then his gaze moved up to the Cardassian's face. Garak took a deep, steadying breath and determinedly pulled his hand away. Bashir looked almost disappointed, then slightly embarrassed. He turned to look at the work table, reaching out and picking up a strangely shaped item which Garak had just used to run over the damaged area of his uniform. He turned the item over in his hands and frowned at it.

"What is this?" 

"Merely a simple tailoring tool, Doctor."

"Ah!" muttered Bashir, holding the piece of equipment up and squinting at it.

"Doctor, I have no objection to you examining that, but please avoid pressing any of the adjustment buttons at all cost!" 

Garak waited for the doctor to nod a response - he didn't want to find that the alignment had been altered when he next came to use it. After all, it could take ages to get the wretched thing set up to his preferred level again and just a slight alteration in the lateral vernier adjustment could result in days of headaches and badly aligned seams.

Garak smiled and allowed him to play with the 'toy' for a while. He knew that the human would be unable to work it out - it was uniquely Cardassian in design. True enough, after a few minutes, Bashir was holding the object at arm's length and frowning at it. He wanted to try pressing a few of the buttons, but didn't want the whole thing to go off with a bang, or to find that it turned into a small calibre hand weapon.

Garak snipped off the loose threads and handed the uniform to the doctor with a smile. 

"Doctor, if I might be so bold as to suggest that you avoid coming into contact with the item causing such destruction to your apparel. One can only perform so much in the way of repairs before the whole garment becomes an embarrassment to wear."

Julian Bashir managed an apologetic grin and strode towards the door, where he hesitated and looked back.

"Er… I wondered… If you aren't too busy, would you care to meet me for a drink at Quark's later?" 

"That would be a pleasure, Doctor. I have nothing on tonight…"

Julian's mouth fell open slightly as a jolt of _something_ shot straight through him and a few images pushed their way into his mind with the force of an intoxicated Screech rhino. 

He managed a squeaky "20.00?" which was acknowledged with a nod from Garak. 

He headed for his quarters, looking extremely flustered.

In the corner, near the main stairway down to the next level, a beige-clad figure watched him walk away. He'd not given a lot of credence to the gabbling of Quark when he had been buttonholed earlier that week by the Ferengi bar owner and told that the surly Cardassian tailor had been devoting a lot of time to the new CMO. Maybe this was something that he _should_ be looking into. Odo made a mental note to be in the bar by 20.00 that evening. He'd be able to watch for a while before he had to return to his own quarters to transform to a liquid state.

****


	3. Under the Influence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The drinks flow during a 'date' at Quark's.
> 
> Odo's suspicions are aroused... 
> 
> So is Julian...

When he walked into the bar, Julian spotted Garak in a shadowy corner and headed towards him. He was, for once, a little earlier than he'd expected and was surprised to see that Garak wasn't alone at his table, but was talking to a Ylazian who he recognised as the captain of one of the trading vessels which had docked earlier that day. Garak was twirling an iso-linear rod in his fingers and staring thoughtfully across the table at the Ylazian trader who, in turn, was standing with an almost arrogant air about him. Julian slowed down, keeping himself out of the Cardassian's direct line of sight and crept a little closer…

"I think you will find that has the information you seek, Te-gar'ak. At a fair price too."

"At an extortionate price, Tu-prel."

"But Te-gar'ak, we traders need to make a living, I'm sure you can see that to be so. You are, after all, a man of trade yourself. But, of course, if you no longer require the _information_ …" His voice curled suggestively around the word.

Garak gave a small sniff of resignation and was about to reply when he noticed Julian Bashir a short distance away. Julian stepped forward, his cover blown for now, stopping with a frown. A few moments ago, the Cardassian had clearly had a iso-linear rod in his hand… Now, those hands were empty. 

"Dr Bashir, you're early. Come, sit."

"I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

"Oh, just a small trade discussion, Doctor. Tu-prel was just leaving, I believe."

The Ylazian turned his piercing black eyes to Bashir and gave what might have been a smile, or could have been a smirk.

"Yes. If you would complete our transaction in the usual manner, Te-gar'ak… I am sorry to leave so rapidly, Te-dok'tar. I have clients to… track down."

Julian nodded awkwardly and moved to sit at the table. He watched the Ylazian wander away into the crowds, also noticing that on the other side of the room, Odo was trying to watch where the trader was heading whilst being talked at by a somewhat animated Quark. His eyes were drawn back to the Cardassian who gave a polite cough to attract his attention, then smiled. 

"Would you care for a drink, Doctor?"

"I'll get these, Garak. I assume you want kanar?"

"You are correct in your assumption, Doctor. Kanar would be most acceptable, thank you."

****

In the vicinity of the bar, Odo was starting to wonder if he, as chief of security, would have to arrest himself for a breach of the peace if he tried to strangle Quark.

He had made his way to the bar, eyes scanning the room for the Cardassian and had spotted him talking to a trader whose portfolio contained several acts of a dubious nature. He had been about to move to within hearing range when Quark had buttonholed him and started to rant on about one of the visiting workers who he suspected of cheating at the dabo tables. 

"Not now, Quark. I'm busy!"

"Too busy to prevent a crime being committed against a member of the community? Odo, this is serious!"

Odo growled out a sigh of despair. 

"All right, Quark. What is it this time?"

"Well, it's the Bolian on table 4. He keeps winning! He must be cheating."

"Or maybe he is just having a run of good fortune! A lucky evening?"

"Odo, nobody has that sort of luck! Certainly not on _my_ dabo tables."

" _Your_ dabo tables? Do you mean to imply that your tables are… compromised, to avoid winning streaks?"

The Ferengi managed to look both innocent and mortally offended at the same time.

"Now, Odo. My dabo tables are all perfectly legal. You gave me the certification papers yourself only two weeks ago."

"Three months ago, Quark."

"Three months? How time flies! I could have sworn…"

"Quark, as I said, I have things to do and don't have the time to stand around debating the finer points of your dabo certification - although it has reminded me that you are due another inspection… soon."

The Ferengi gave a sharp-toothed grin and feigned nonchalance. "Odo, it will be my pleasure. Now, what are you going to do about that Bolian?"

"I'll look into it tomorrow, Quark."

"Tomorrow?!" the Ferengi squeaked in horror. "Odo, by tomorrow he may have bankrupted me! Remember the 253rd Rule of Acquisition: _'He who hesitates loses latinum'_. Do you _want_ to see me closed down due to bankruptcy? No, on second thoughts, don't answer that!" 

Odo glanced over to the other side of the room where Garak and Bashir were sitting, absorbed in their own conversation and clearly unaware of anything else going on around them. 

"Odo? Odo!! The Bolian?" 

"Hmmm? Oh. Just close the table down for the evening. I'm sure you can come up with a good excuse. Now, excuse me. I have work to do."

Quark stood open mouthed and watched the Shape Shifter move away towards the other side of the room. He shrugged and turned, heading for dabo table 4 and hoping that the customers would accept the news of its closure in good grace. He was just relieved that there were no Klingons using it that night. Now that _would_ have been difficult.

****

Odo managed to find a place to merge into the shadows within hearing range of the young CMO and the Cardassian and settled down to eavesdrop on the conversation. His interruption by Quark had meant that he had missed a large chunk of the discussion between the two men, but he was there now and, from the conversation, it was not a moment too soon.

"Surely you can tell me." The Cardassian's tone was plaintive… Wheedling even. Odo bristled with curiosity. This is what he'd been afraid of… The Cardassian trying to extract information from the gullible young officer…

"Garak I can't, it…"

"My dear Doctor, what harm would it do to tell me the details? Is he a double agent and is he known to the authorities?"

"I'm not saying anything about it, Garak."

"It isn't as if my knowledge of the facts would be likely to bring a government to its knees or anything. Why can you not just tell me?"

"No Garak, it really isn't going to happen."

"I can be very persuasive, Doctor."

"Oh, I'm sure you can. But I'm not going to let the cat out of the bag!"

"Cat? In a bag?" Garak was wearing one of those looks which meant that Julian was about to need a good dose of patience. 

"A cat is a mammal which is now extinct on Earth, but the…"

"Why is it in a bag?"

"Well, it isn't a real cat… It's an old idiom that originated on Earth."

"So you have an animal that no longer exists… and isn't real… in a bag. Is the bag real?"

"Erm, no… "

"A non-existent animal in a similarly non-existent containment device. Really, Doctor. And you complain that some of the Cardassian repetitive epics are stretching the imagination!"

Odo sighed behind his pillar. He had been on the receiving end of one of the tailor's circuitous discussions once before and knew that it was likely to continue along these lines for quite some time. He was debating whether to give up then, having already heard sufficient to cause some degree of concern, or to remain in that position in the hope that he might hear something else. A glance across the room to where Quark was waving at him urgently made the decision for him. He looked hastily at the floor and slipped out of the bar onto the Promenade, heading rapidly for his office to draft a report.

Garak was drumming his fingers on the table and frowning. Eventually, he glanced up at the Human with a dramatic shrug of his shoulders and a sigh. 

"Well, animals in bags or not, I still think it is unfair to withhold the information. I only want to know what the main character's reason for being in that city at that specific time is. "

"Garak, that all becomes clear at the end of the book. It will spoil the plot of the story if you know the ending. Just trust me on this one, will you! Now, more kanar?"

Cardassians, as a rule, have a much higher capacity for alcohol consumption than your average Human, so Garak was happy to match the doctor drink for drink. Introduce Terran whisky into the equation though and the playing field becomes more level, as Garak was rapidly finding out. 

All seemed fine while the kanar was flowing. His conversational ability didn't even begin to waver, unlike that of Julian Bashir who had started to slur a few of his words and speak just a little too loudly. They were just over half way down a bottle of kanar when Julian announced that he was going to go and get them another bottle. He returned several minutes later and dropped into his seat, giving Garak a soppy grin and waving the new bottle, whisky this time, proudly at him. 

And so it was that Quark ended up having to move them to a more isolated table away from other customers who had complained that Julian's rendition of songs from The Mikado, whilst bearable on the first hearing, had started to pale slightly by the fifth and sixth times. There were only so many times that they could put up with Julian announcing that he was "filled to the brim with girlish glee" before the novelty wore off. The fact that he had started to forget the words and was substituting them with "tum-tiddy tum-tum, bum bum bum" wasn't helping either. 

In the recesses of his mind, Garak knew that he should be finding this public display of lack of control on the doctor's part both embarrassing and annoying. So very un-Cardassian. Four (or it could have been five… or six… maybe eight… he'd lost count) large shots of whisky, however, had managed to quash a few of his inbuilt inhibitions and the Cardassian was staring at the Human with misty eyed admiration, encouraging him into encore after encore until, at last, Julian gave a small hiccup and slumped across the table, his head resting on his arms, murmuring indistinctly into his elbow. He remained thus for half an hour, Garak smiling indulgently at him, at which point Quark appeared and began to make very pointed comments about wanting to close for the night. 

Garak shook Bashir's shoulder gently, causing the Human to sit up rapidly and wince. 

"Doctor. It's late. We need to go… Quirk wants to close up…"

"Quirk?"

"Mmmm. No… QuArk… Come on." Garak managed to stand at the third attempt and clung grimly to the table until he felt steady enough to move. Julian stared at him in consternation.

"Are you all right, Garak?"

"Perfectly fine, Doctor… Thank you."

"Well, I'd better walk you back to your quarters…" stated Julian, earnestly. "Make sure you get there without incident… Oh dear. Legs feel a bit odd. Look, hold on… If I put my arm there… See, much better. Now… off we go…" 

Garak tried to ignore the arm which had snaked around his waist and had drawn him close against the doctor's side so that every step they took he could feel that warm thigh brush against his own. 

Moving like some strange, wounded, four-legged creature - and somehow defying the laws of gravity - the two drinkers took their leave of the bar and headed for the habitat ring. Behind them, frowning at the spectacle, Quark put down the tray of glasses which he had gathered and reached out to the comms screen.

"Odo? There's something you need to know…"

****

Once in the habitat ring, Julian managed to prop himself against a wall while Garak keyed in his access code and gave a mild Cardassian curse when the door failed to open. He tried again, still no success. 

"Let me try.." Julian stumbled forwards and keyed in a code. 

"Doctor, how come you know the access code to my quarters?"

Julian opened his mouth a couple of times, a guilty look taking up residence on his face. "I... er… "

The door remained stubbornly closed. 

"Garak…"

"Hmmm?" Garak was entering his code for the tenth time and punctuating each digit with a different curse. Julian made a mental note to ask for a translation at some point.

"I know why your code isn't working…"

"Oh? Pray tell, dear Doctor."

"These aren't your quarters. We're on the wrong level…" Julian giggled and slid part way down the wall.

Garak gave Julian a look which conveyed the idea that he'd been fully aware of that, thank you very much, and had merely been testing Julian's observational skills. He gave a small cough of embarrassment then headed back towards the turbo-lift, thankful that Cardassians didn't have the ability to blush. 

Finally, they arrived at Garak's door and he was relieved to find that his code was now working. The door slid open and he turned to bid Julian goodnight, to find that the doctor was suddenly standing close… 

Very close.

"Well, Doctor. Thank you for a very enjoyable evening. Now… I…"

Julian had leaned forwards slightly, one hand gripping Garak's shoulder for added stability, his eyes questioning. Garak could swear that he could feel the doctor's breath against his skin, so close was he at that moment. 

"Doctor… Really… I should..." Garak's words were halted by a finger placed softly on his lips.

"Ssssh. Got to tell you… To tell you… What was it I was going to tell you? S'okay… I'll remember 'n a minute."

Bashir swayed slightly and squinted at the Cardassian, who was standing in mute horror, transfixed like a regnar caught in the gaze of a Talonian Hawk. Bashir gave a soft smile and his voice dropped to a whisper. 

"You have the most beautiful eyes… Did you know that? Garak? Stunningly beautiful…"

Garak felt a warm caress of gentle fingers trace the ridges along his jaw line. 

So close… 

Too close… 

His breath hitched at the contact. 

Julian grinned with almost predatory delight. "I don't have to go, you know. We could… do a little… _under-cover_ work together……"

Garak's eyes widened dramatically. By the State, how easy it would be to simply agree… To play this game and face the consequences later… 

"Doctor… Please… This is… inappropriate. You've had too much to drink… You must go… "

"Do you really want me to, my dear Cardassian?" Julian's voice was low, deep, enticing. Garak wanted so much to say no… Wanted that moment to continue, to play through to its inevitable outcome. His mouth was so dry, words wouldn't come… 

His mind was shouting at him to turn away, that actions brought about by the effects of alcohol would lead to regret… But that touch, those murmured words of desire… Garak felt as though he was being pulled inexorably into flames, his resolve weakening with every second that this Human stood so close. Close enough that he could almost …

"Gentlemen, is everything all right here? Dr Bashir?"

Garak didn't know whether to curse Odo to Bajor and back, or thank him. At the words of the Security officer, Julian had pulled back hastily.

"Everything's fine, Constable. We jus' got quack from Bark's… er… back from Quark's and I was… I was… making sure Ga… Garak was… was… was safely back… Which he… he is…" Julian felt quite proud of himself. He'd sounded totally sober.

Odo favoured him with one of his trademark looks and, to add emphasis to the gesture, added a harrumph. 

"Yes," he muttered in a tone which dripped with suspicion, "Quark did mention that you seemed to be having a little trouble walking when you left. I thought it best to check up on you. Now, Doctor Bashir, I'll walk you to your quarters. Goodnight, Garak."

Garak managed a weak smile in Odo's direction. His last view before he walked into his quarters was of Julian's eyes looking almost beseeching as Odo led him away. Garak gave a gentle smile.

"Goodnight, Garak. I meant it you know…"

Garak stumbled through the door into his quarters and managed to get as far as a chair before his legs gave in and he fell back into it. He looked at his hands. They were shaking. He sat, staring at the floor for a long time, but the memory of that arm wrapped so warmly around his waist and the touch of those elegant, long fingers refused to fade. In a world of coldness and hostility, that moment blazed like a warming sun. Digging his nails into his palms he cursed the kanar and the whisky, and his weaknesses.

A single tear tracked down a grey cheek and fell, lost, onto the floor by his feet.

****

Julian allowed Odo to lead him slowly and slightly unsteadily to his own quarters. The effects of the drink were making another valiant attempt at re-emerging and on his ability to function.

Walking slowly and with a hand ever ready to catch the doctor's elbow whenever he swerved manically off course or looked about to fall over his own feet, Odo did his best to ignore the babbling conversation which seemed to be about spies with blue eyes and wanting to get to see Garak's hidden rod… 

Odo really did NOT want to know.

****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time:
> 
> Julian makes a move. 
> 
> Odo steps up the surveillance - and has a few regrets about his choice of camouflage.


	4. Surveillance.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Julian makes a move.
> 
> Odo makes an error of judgement...

Odo was proud of his position of Head of Security on the space station. He was currently channelling his need for inconspicuous observation and was holding his form as a wall panel in the clothier's shop whilst trying to observe the Cardassian in a covert manner. 

Like O'Brien, and in fact most occupants of DS9, he had trust issues when it came to this enigmatic Cardassian and a few of the things he had heard lately had sparked his interest. Firstly, the tailor had sent several recent communications to an individual on one of the Cardassian outpost planets, and, upon investigation, Odo had found that this particular individual had the reputation for supplying various _hard to find_ items. 

Secondly, and this was the most worrying, being the way that the tailor had recently increased his meetings with the young Starfleet CMO, even to the extent of meeting him for frequent lunches and the occasional stroll along the Promenade, during which they always appeared to be engrossed in their private conversations and petty arguments about the merits of Cardassian and Earth literature and art. 

He'd not seen the Cardassian associate with _anyone_ on that level before, in fact, the man was known for being aloof and distant towards almost every other occupant of DS9, so this in itself was cause for concern. 

The conversation he had overheard the evening before in Quark's had only increased his concerns. 

He had no doubts about the integrity of the young Starfleet officer, but was also aware that the young man had a certain degree of bubbling enthusiasm which at times tended to over-ride the discretion requirements befitting his rank and position in the Starfleet scheme of things. He didn't want to think of him bubbling about things he shouldn't bubble about to a potential Cardassian spy. 

Odo had a large capacity for tolerating boredom, which was a good thing at that moment because the tailor was sitting in total silence, delicately stitching a sleeve in place and with a far away look on his face. It wasn't until 30 more minutes had passed that the shop door hissed open and the other object of his concerns strolled in, a certain casualness in his demeanour which, Odo had learned, in Humans usually meant exactly the opposite. Odo glued himself more closely to his section of wall and hoped that he wouldn't shimmer and draw attention to himself.

"Ah, Dr Bashir, what a pleasant surprise! Are you in need of apparel? A nice new suit for one of your numerous holosuite programmes perhaps? Or some hand stitched accessories?" The tailor had put down the stitching and was smiling hopefully at the young doctor who was standing with his arms behind his back, pivoting on one foot and looking extremely nervous.

"Actually Garak, none of those things…" 

"Then you must need another repair carrying out on your uniform, or an alteration, although I don't see the article in your possession… "

"No. No repairs, no alterations. I… er… I…" the young man had gone an interesting darker colour which Odo knew that they called 'blushing'. He had never understood the slightly odd involuntary reactions of some species of _solids_ and, if truth be told, he wasn't keen to expand his knowledge as most of these strange reactions seemed to be linked to aspects of their lives which he would rather not know about, thank you.

"I wondered… that is, it would be nice… well, if you wanted to… which you might not, but then never mind… but if you _did_ then…" Julian's tongue seemed to have reached the limit of its ability to form coherent sentences and stammered to a stop, leaving him open mouthed and wide eyed. 

Garak raised a brow ridge questioningly. 

Julian managed to plunge on nervously.

"I wondered… You see I have an old holo-movie, an action thriller, which you might find interesting, bearing in mind your _profession_ , but… well… I wondered if you might like to have dinner with me tonight and watch it?" 

"My dear Doctor, that sounds positively delightful." Garak beamed at Bashir and felt a gentle warmth spreading through his body at the thought that the beautiful young Human wanted his company, even though he was somewhat puzzled about the holo-movie. He wasn't sure how well the art of tailoring would fit into the genre of action films, but he was happy to put up with this just for the chance to be in the doctor's company for any length of time.

Odo watched, (or whatever could be described for what he was doing as observation without the actual appearance of eyes) as the doctor seemed to visibly relax and give a laugh of what sounded like relief. 

"Great. Would 19.00 be ok for you?"

"Admirably, Doctor. I'm not tied up with anything this evening."

Julian gave an audible gulp.

Garak continued. "I have a few things to finish here, but nothing to keep me. So, should I meet you somewhere?"

"My quarters… If that's ok?"

Garak gave one of his acquiescing bows and smiled serenely. Julian grinned and walked out with a certain spring in his step. Garak watched him go and turned his attention back to the table where a box of items was waiting to be unpacked. Well, might as well do that now, rather than start any major tasks which would risk him being late for his appointment for dinner. 

He cut the seals open carefully and smiled when he found that it was the items needed for the bridal wear… Or rather, it was most of the items. He gave the box one of his trademark glares and muttered a mild Cardassian curse under his breath before he walked to the door and carefully locked it. He looked around carefully before returning to his comms console and keying in a few numbers to open a voice channel. 

A female voice on the other end was quick to respond. Odo performed a mental harrumph, he couldn't hear very well from his current position and was unable to transmute to an alternative form to get nearer as Garak was facing in his direction. 

He heard the tailor give his name and then say,

"I'd like to talk to someone about a matter of some urgency… Yes, as quickly as possible… No, it can't wait until tomorrow… How long?... Well yes, I suppose that will have to do, but he MUST get back to me as soon as possible… Yes, it is high priority… " 

Odo had to remind himself not to develop a spare ear and extend it towards the tailor to try to pick up the words more clearly as Garak continued, 

"Tell him that it is regarding the Obsidian Order… Yes… That is correct… Yes, he'll understand… Thank you." 

As Garak switched off the comms link Odo almost slipped off the wall. He could not believe his ears... well, if he'd had any at that moment, but he knew what he meant. The Obsidian Order! One of the most powerful, if not _the_ most powerful organisation in the Alpha Quadrant and feared throughout the whole of the State of Cardassia, with good reason. That made the tailor's liaison with Dr Bashir even more worrying. 

He waited until the tailor had gone into his back room and was heard rummaging around amongst the bolts of cloth before he slid rapidly from the wall, flowed under the shop door and re-formed in his Humanoid form on the other side, much to the surprise of a passing Bajoran business woman who swerved past him quite dramatically, giving a short squawk of shock as she did so. Odo huffed an apology and hurried away to his office. 

That Cardassian tailor was going to need a great deal more attention from now on! 

He performed a quick check on the computer to locate Dr Bashir, ah good, still in the Infirmary. Odo drummed his fingers on the console briefly, then headed to the habitat ring and Julian Bashir's quarters. Once inside, he looked around for a few moments, wondering where would be best to insinuate himself… Perhaps a bulkhead… or a row of antique books… or part of the replicator panelling. His ponderings were interrupted by the sound of a door code being punched into the entry panel, he had no time for leisurely choice and hurriedly morphed into one of the nondescript cushions lurking on the doctor's couch.

Odo had to admit that it was the best he could do given the lack of time to prepare, as he waited on the sofa, blending in as best he could, one beige cushion in the midst of a few more brightly coloured ones. He heard the sound of Dr Bashir hurriedly getting the essentials for a meal together and pacing anxiously around his quarters. 

"Should I put on something less formal?" the doctor said out loud as he stood in front of the sofa and chewed a fingernail nervously. "Would I look better in uniform or a casual sort of thing, I wonder?"

Odo was puzzled by this new revelation about the doctor's character. At first he thought Bashir had actually noticed he was there, but then realised that the man was talking to himself… Well, that was a relief. He wasn't really sure how he would have been able to answer the question anyway.

Dr Bashir continued with his pacing and deliberating over various questions. Should he use cologne or not? Candles? Or was that too suggestive of an ulterior motive? Subdued lighting or no lighting at all apart from candles? Odo tried to switch off from the continuous twitter of rising panic but it was impossible and he found himself starting to get whatever a cushion got in the place of a headache. Finally, Bashir seemed to realise that he was getting himself in a state of panic and tried to calm himself down. 

"Now, Julian… Calm down. It's just a normal evening with a spy… a friend… a friend who is a spy… possibly a spy… watching a good film and having a meal together. Why are you so nervous? It's not as if you want more… Well, ok, you do want more but maybe he won't. Just calm down for pity's sake. Get a shower and… just stop over-thinking it!"

There was a short moment of peace while the doctor disappeared into his shower. Odo contemplated a change of form but he'd been holding shape as a wall panel in Garak's shop for a long time that afternoon and, to be honest, he was glad of the change. Besides, he'd got quite comfortable on the sofa, snuggled down between a fluffy cream and black cushion and a somewhat smarter burgundy and gold one in a strong tapestry material. 

He contemplated a few additions of similar items to his own somewhat Spartan quarters and was interrupted by the sound of feet padding towards the sofa and the view of Julian Bashir's long, brown and decidedly naked legs as he walked past. Well, he hoped that the young doctor was going to find something to cover up with. Cardassians simply did not 'do' nudity, and he could imagine Garak's horror at the very idea of it. 

Ah, that was better. The doctor had emerged from the bedroom clad in a decent pair of dark trousers and a cream shirt, and spent a few minutes at the replicator acquiring candles and glasses which he set about placing on the table before dimming the lights to a level which Odo realised was going to be far more comfortable for the Cardassian although not so much for the eyes of a Human, or the senses of a Changeling. Just in time too, as the door chime sounded on the dot of 19.00.

****

Julian opened the door to find a smiling Garak on his threshold bearing a bottle of vintage kanar and a box of what looked suspiciously like Delavian chocolates.

"Garak. Come in, please…" Julian said shakily as he stepped to one side and ushered the Cardassian through the door with a sweeping arm gesture. "I thought we could eat first and then settle down to watch the film with a drink or two. Would that be ok for you?" He fought to tear his eyes away from the Cardassian who was, as usual, dressed impeccably. Of course, he would be, spies always looked suave and glamorous, and … was that make up of some sort? Bashir peered a little more closely and decided that it wasn't, it was just an effect of the lighting making it look as though the tailor's scaled ridges had taken on a darker hue. He resisted the temptation to make a quick medically-based examination of the Cardassian's neck ridges, and led the way into the room. 

Garak smiled a little self consciously at the intense scrutiny and proffered the chocolates with a brief flash of teeth and blue eyes. "That is perfectly suitable Doctor. How kind of you to consider the lighting effect and my comfort this evening. Such a pleasant change from the usual brightness of the station."

"Well, I don't want you to be uncomfortable in any way, Garak." Besides which, he thought, dimmed lights are more romantic… "Would you like to sit down for a few minutes while I get the food to the table?"

"Maybe I could help by pouring a drink each while you are busy? Kanar?"

Julian nodded enthusiastically. In fact, he did find the consistency of the Cardassian drink a little over sticky and the memory of the hangover resulting from their previous over-indulgence made his stomach churn in a worrying manner, but he was not going to ruin the moment by announcing this fact. He reflected that he'd have happily downed several glasses of liquidised gagh and Kruathian mink blood if the spy had offered it to him. 

Garak reached out for the glasses and smiled, pouring a glass of the rich liquid for Julian and handing it to him. Julian felt his heart race as he accepted the drink and felt the briefest of touches as the tailor withdrew his hand. He took an enthusiastic gulp of the drink and coughed as it burned a trail down his throat. He hurriedly turned to the replicator and started to sort out the elements of their meal.

****

An hour had passed and Odo was seriously regretting his choice of camouflage. It had all been fine to start with. He'd relaxed on the sofa and listened to the tailor and the doctor making small talk over their meal. Nothing was said to invoke concern in the mind of the security chief, it was mostly idle chatter about the food and some comments about their day's work, followed by a slightly spirited discussion over dessert regarding one of the books which Julian had suggested that Garak should try reading and which Garak clearly found to be trite and meaningless in comparison to his beloved Cardassian epics.

The discussion had moved quite quickly from spirited to mildly argumentative and had just reached the point where blatant antagonism was starting to show and Odo could hear the Human banging a fist on the table to emphasise each comment while the Cardassian's words were starting to take on a curious rumbling, growling quality. 

Surely not… 

Well, thank the Prophets. The tension evaporated in a moment as Odo heard Bashir say "We'll have to agree to disagree on that one for now, Garak. Now, shall we watch the film?"

The Cardassian's response sounded almost shocked and more than a little disappointed. "Very well, Doctor. If that is your wish."

Bashir pointed Garak to the sofa and Odo felt the seat cushion move as the Cardassian sat at one end of the sofa. Bashir stood fiddling with an iso-linear rod which the console kept rejecting. Finally, it accepted it and Julian joined Garak on the sofa, albeit at the other end of it, leaving the cushion that was Odo between the two of them. Not too unpleasant, thought Odo as he relaxed again. Comfortable, and he had a good view of the screen from there too. He'd always been fond of these Earth stories since Chief O'Brien had lent him a few padd-books to read. 

Odo watched as the opening scene showed happenings on a private island where a very tall Human was clearly being taunted by a very short Human who had apparently hired a third Human to kill the first one. Naturally, the plot failed and the tall Human killed the third one. Odo gave a mental sigh. Apparently this was going to be one of those predictably formulaic stories which the doctor seemed to enjoy so much. 

His mental sigh was echoed by the Cardassian sitting to his right. Garak was already itching to comment on the plot's quality and the film had only just started.

"Really, my dear Doctor, do all Human man-servants delight in attempting to cause the death of their masters?"

"Well, in this case, Garak, the man-servant will inherit his master's fortune if he dies."

"And the master is aware of the servant's aims to kill him?" Garak sounded a trifle bemused.

"Yes."

"Yet he still keeps him in his employ and refrains from disposing of him, which would enable him to enjoy a peaceful life in the sun with his… lady friend?"

"Yes."

"Somewhat foolish, don't you think, Doctor? Why not get rid of the man and employ staff who you can trust?"

At this point Bashir paused the film and took a deep breath, obviously trying to keep calm in the face of Cardassian adversity.

"The point, Garak, is that the master is an assassin and sees his servant's efforts as a sort of training. These attempts on his life are just practice for him."

Garak, for his part, settled back into the corner of the sofa with a sense of concern. He was still wondering how this assassin was going to fit in with the tailoring part of the story. The golden gun _was_ intriguing though. He wondered if it had been specially designed to accessorise one of the villain's outfits.

"Doctor?"

"Yes?"

"Do many Human males have 3 nipples?"

"No, Garak… And before you ask… Two."

"Ah."

You could almost hear the cogs in Garak's mind shifting awkwardly.

"Doctor?"

"Yes, Garak!"

"What is the significance of the champagne cork popping and champagne spilling out all over the…"

"Garak! I'm sure you can work that one out!"

The film continued and Odo felt quite settled, although he was finding it difficult to refrain from tutting at some of the plot lines. 

Bashir, who had been fidgeting at his end of the sofa for a while now, was suddenly on his feet.

"Another drink, Garak?"

"Thank you. Yes."

Bashir walked to the table, retrieved the bottle of kanar and returned to stand in front of the sofa. It was at that point that Garak piped up again with another of his observations.

"Do female Humans all throw themselves at the males in this manner?"

"In this genre of film, it is quite typically the case." At this point, things began to get a bit worrying for Odo. Firstly, once the drinks were poured, Bashir had thrown himself back onto the sofa but had landed next to Garak and was now leaning back onto Odo as he passed Garak his glass of kanar. "Besides, they are supposed to find the character of the secret agent and the assassin to be… irresistible…"

"Oh," Garak muttered.

"Yes. It’s the air of secrecy and mystery. It's quite a powerful aphrodisiac…"

"It is?"

"Oh yes… "

Odo was aware of the doctor leaning in towards the Cardassian and … oh dear… 

"My dear Doctor! I'm just a plain and simple tailor… Surely you can't think that I'm some sort of s…… Mmmph!"

Apparently, Dr Bashir had found a way of stopping the Cardassian from speaking. Odo had a sneaking suspicion that he knew how… 

Why, oh why had he not morphed into a wall panel when he'd had the chance? At least then he could have tried to ignore what was happening, but no, he'd stuck with the cushion and was starting to realise that he was probably going to regret this choice.

The film played on, all but forgotten in the cases of Bashir and the Cardassian who seemed set on acting out their own little drama, and as for Odo, continued viewing was impossible given that he was now being firmly squashed against the back of the sofa as the Human did his best to demonstrate to Garak just how alluring a man of mystery could be. 

Odo winced as he found himself on the receiving end of knees, elbows and other bits of Humanoid anatomy which he hoped never to be able to identify. 

There was a moment of what was certainly the nearest he had ever been to panic as he heard Bashir stammer in breathless tones, "Try putting a cushion under… oh…" and he felt the Cardassian's strong fingers groping blindly around the sofa. Odo shrank back in alarm and breathed a metaphorical sigh of relief as the tapestry item was grabbed and hauled with unceremonious urgency from its resting place. 

"Hold on, Garak… This is in the way…"

Odo felt Bashir's long fingers grab him, drag him from his resting place and next he knew he was sailing over the back of the sofa and had landed with a slight gasp on the floor behind it. In all honesty, although he was now unable to see more than a few feet towards the wall, Odo was somewhat relieved to find himself there. His previous position on the sofa had been rapidly becoming untenable. He was starting to wish that he could shut his hearing off too. 

"Doctor!! Please - that happens to be the best quality Pelarian silk!!"

"I am not stopping while you fold it up!"

"But the creases will be terrib… oh… That's… interesting…"

"Mmm… Garak? Are you carrying a weapon?"

"Ngh… Not there, no… Oh!"

"Maybe I should check… Wouldn't want it going off without warning, would we…?"

"My dear Doctor, if you do that again then…" The Cardassian's words drifted into a deep moan, answered by a chuckle of delight from the Human. 

The sound of the film's soundtrack was now masked by the sounds emanating from the sofa. Muted gasps and moans, hisses and growls… 

Odo allowed himself to slide into a liquid state and flow hastily under the door and out into the safety of the corridor. He didn't stop to look back. He really didn't need that sort of image burnt into his mind.

Solids. Harrumph.

****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Bond film referred to is, for those who haven't guessed it yet, "The Man with the Golden Gun" which starred Roger Moore as Bond and the fabulous Christopher Lee as the assassin, Francisco Scaramanga. 
> 
> The scene above refers to the opening sequence of the film and which can be seen on YouTube. 
> 
> Next time...
> 
> A coded message? Odo finds more to worry about...


	5. Reality Bites...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Garak wakes up and confronts a savage attacker.
> 
> Julian continues his musical career (but won't be giving up his day job) and has a realisation about the Obsidian Order...
> 
> Odo continues to be Odo.

Garak woke up and stared at the ceiling as his mind attempted to come to terms with the fact that he most certainly wasn't in his own bed (he would never have put up with sheets of that calibre of fabric, or that colour, for a start), that he was naked and that someone, also naked, was pressed close against him, mumbling in their sleep. The _someone_ was soft, scaleless and beautifully warm… Garak was unable to resist snuggling a little closer.

He had an embarrassingly vivid, undeniably arousing flashback to a few hours previously when the dear Doctor had fallen off the sofa for the third time before pouting in a petulant, albeit endearing, manner and had dragged a still protesting (although not convincingly) Cardassian into the bedroom where he had proceeded to do things that Garak hadn't even been aware that a Human body could do without breaking. He had to admit that it had even been quite educational, although, he mused, there were a couple of things which he felt could do with repeating, just to be sure he'd understood fully… 

The slender figure beside him stirred and mumbled a quiet "Hello" through a somewhat sloppy kiss planted against a slightly tender scale on his shoulder. Julian lifted himself onto one elbow and stared down at the Cardassian with an intensity of gaze which made Garak want to pull the sheet up to his chin and hide. He wasn't used to being studied quite so closely and at such close proximity. It was unnerving. 

What was also unnerving was what the doctor's hand was doing under the sheets. Garak opened his mouth to say something which was certainly meant to be profound, but only got as far as an inhalation before a decidedly wanton groan emerged where words had been expected. Julian's fingers were doing things to him that he was sure would be illegal on several of the Federation planets and incur the death penalty on a few others. 

Part of him was screaming a warning… All the Cardassian values that had been drummed into him from an early age were telling him that this was wrong. There was no way that he could, or should, be in this bed with this delicious creature.

It would all end badly. 

Then Julian did something very clever with his beautifully long fingers, and Garak's mind gave up all pretence of rational thought. Very un-Cardassian of him, he knew… but at that moment, clinging desperately to a golden body and growling his pleasure against that beautiful skin, he really didn't care.  


****

The next time he awoke, Garak was aware of feeling somewhat colder and had a nasty suspicion that he had been asleep on a damp patch on the sheets. That could play havoc with the scales and, whilst a trip to the Infirmary would enable him to gaze longingly at the delectable doctor, the thought of having to ask him for ointment to treat scale-rot was mortifying. 

With eyes still closed and mind filled with the memory of satiated bliss, he reached out tentatively to where a lithe, warm body had been previously but his fingers merely contacted cooling sheets. He inched his hand upwards to the crumpled pillow where a tousled head should have been and….

WHAT THE………?

Before even opening his eyes, Garak recoiled with a warning hiss, his hand automatically reaching under his pillow for the thin-bladed knife which he always kept there… but it wasn't his bed… there was no knife… He would have to resort to hand-to-hand combat.

Tensing his muscles, focusing all his energy, Garak switched into attack mode. His eyes snapped open and he pounced. His opponent was small, but he couldn't allow for complacency - after all, it had already disposed of Bashir. He wrestled it into a strangle hold and snarled threateningly at it.

"Who are you? What have you done to Dr Bashir?"

The creature remained tight-lipped and silent. Garak increased the pressure and heard it give a mournful " _Meeeeeeeeeeeugh_ " which the Universal Translator failed to interpret.

Garak slowly became aware that the creature was not moving. He let the limp form fall from his grip and cautiously prodded at it. There was always the chance that it was feigning death… Lulling him into a false sense of security before it attacked and delivered its killing blow. A few more prods elicited no response, so he carefully picked the creature up by one of its limbs and was peering at it suspiciously when he heard someone pad softly into the room and became aware of the aroma of red leaf tea wafting on the air.

"Ah. You've met Kukalaka then?" Julian grinned and walked across to the bed. "Here, I've brought you some tea. I'll just go and grab a shower while you drink it." He prised the toy bear from Garak's clenched fingers and substituted it for the cup of steaming tea before placing the bear back onto his pillow and wandering into the bathroom with a provocative glance over his shoulder. 

Garak sipped his tea and glowered suspiciously at the creature. Then he became aware of a strange noise from the bathroom… 

Melodious… 

Julian was... singing.

" _♫ Nobody does it better makes me feel sad for the rest  
Nobody does it half as good as you  
Baby, you're the best ♫_"

Julian emerged from the bathroom with droplets of water running down his chest, looking like some wild, untamed river-creature from an old Hebitian legend. Garak could only stare, transfixed.

"♫ _I wasn't lookin' but somehow you found me  
I tried to hide from your love light  
But like heaven above me  
The spy who loved me  
Is keepin' all my secrets safe tonight ♫_," warbled Julian, attempting to sway seductively as he walked, but merely managing to look slightly inebriated. 

Garak felt a momentary pang of mortification when he saw the expression of his passion mapped across the doctor's skin; a succession of bruises from the nips and bites which he had been unable to restrain himself from delivering. 

"What is that tune, my dear?"

Julian grinned.

"It's a theme from one of my Bond films. The Spy Who Loved Me."

"My dear Doctor, how many times must I tell you..." Garak began.

"… that I am just a plain and simple tailor?" Julian finished for him, with a smirk. "Sorry Garak, I could have substituted the word _tailor_ but then it doesn't scan."

Garak managed a watery smile. His insides were churning. He felt cold and suddenly very exposed in more ways than one. 

"Garak? Is everything all right?" Julian had sat beside him and was looking concerned, trying to make eye contact… Trying to read him…

"Yes, Doctor… Now, I should wash and get to my shop. I have… I have much to do and you have work… and…" 

He wanted to ask… Wanted to know what the past few hours had meant… But his mind was afraid of the answers and so his questions went unasked. He felt a dull ache ripple through his scales. 

It was painful.

Crushingly so.

In fact… What? He became dimly aware that the good doctor was talking to him…

"So would that be okay with you? Garak?"

"Sorry, Doctor. What were you saying?"

"Tonight? The play?"

"Play?" 

"Yes." Julian rolled his eyes. "The Picard Players are putting on a performance of Hamlet"

"Hamlet?" Garak kicked himself mentally. His reputation as a top level conversationalist wasn't going to last long if he could only manage to parrot the last word he heard.

"It's one of the tragedies by William Shakespeare."

"Shakespeare?" See, he'd done it again. 

"You'll enjoy it. It's all dark deeds, family issues and murder. Rather like your Cardassian _Never Ending Sacrifice_ " Julian smirked, "but with a plot."

Garak's eyes flashed with indignation. He drew a breath to launch into the defence of his beloved epic then noticed the grin on Julian's face. 

"So, will you come with me?" Julian murmured, voice suddenly husky and dripping honey-toned desire. "To the play, I mean…" he added, with a smirk.

"That would be… most enjoyable, Doctor… In every sense…" Garak felt the knots of discomfort begin to unravel.

"Please… call me J…" Julian's sentence went unfinished as his comms badge blipped and demanded attention. He grabbed it from the bedside table and activated it with a scowl. "Bashir here."

"Dr Bashir. Just to remind you that we have a visit from the Bolian Medical Council in an hour!" The clipped tones of Nurse Jabara rang out in the small space.

He sighed and laid a hand on the Cardassian's shoulder. "I'd better get moving, do you mind letting yourself out? Meet me for lunch?" 

Julian stood up, reaching for his clothes which he started to pull on hastily, making Garak wince. Even a Starfleet uniform had to deserve a little respect, surely. Garak nodded in reply as the long limbs of the doctor fought their way into the uniform. Garak was unable to restrain himself from reaching out to straighten the shoulder seam, just allowing himself the luxury of brushing a thumb against smooth golden skin… and feeling a small, a _very_ small, twinge of guilt when the doctor winced as a strong Cardassian thumb came into contact with the bruise where his neck met his shoulder. 

****

In his office, Odo was sitting and drumming his fingers on the desk as he ran the past few hours through his mind. His concerns were significantly amplified when he had found a report on his comms console from one of his senior security officers. Outgoing transmissions were always monitored for suspicious activity as standard practice, but Odo had a permanent alert in place for any transmissions to or from Cardassia, in particular from Garak's personal comms system. 

The latest report, apart from the usual trivial communiqués originating from Quark, which were undoubtedly something linked to his nefarious practices but which Odo had ceased to trouble himself over, contained a worrying data set. It had originated from the comms console in Garak's own living quarters and was encrypted through at least four levels. It was sent directly to an individual on Cardassia Prime who was using a partially-masked private network receiver which was obscuring its precise position and which blocked all attempts to trace the source of the three responses which had emerged from Prime in the interim period. The reply from Prime had been sent back rapidly and appeared to say (although Odo was not 100% certain as it was in coded dialect):

"Request received. Information currently unobtainable following habitation transfer. Please forward details," and the date in Cardassian calendar modules.

This response had elicited a longer missive from the tailor's console; several pages of undecipherable Kardassi glyphs which Odo was totally unfamiliar with. He could see that there was a repeating motif through the whole message and a short paragraph at the start which seemed to be in a slightly different format and which appeared to contain the word "fibre" several times, and what might have been "terminate", but could equally have been "testicle" - these dialect variations were hard to ascertain without the accompanying facial and hand gestures. The word "doctor" was also there… twice. This was worrying indeed. Was the Cardassian planning on harming the young CMO?

Odo transferred the message onto a data-clip and sat, tapping his fingers on the desk for a while. 

He knew that he should report his suspicions to Commander Sisko, but he did prefer to have a fully investigated set of facts to hand before bothering the head of DS9 with what might be considered trivia. With that in mind, he left his office and headed to the Infirmary.

His arrival coincided with that of a slightly flustered CMO who kept hitching his uniform collar up towards his ears and was doing that "blushing" thing again.

"Ah, Dr Bashir, I was wondering if you might have a little time for a talk?"

"Can you give me five minutes, Constable… There's just something that I need to do." Julian looked slightly awkward and tugged at his collar again. 

Odo nodded his acquiescence, silently watching as the young doctor rummaged around in the equipment banks to find a dermal regenerator, no doubt to eradicate that somewhat obvious contusion which had appeared on his neck at some point. The doctor disappeared into one of the private examination rooms for a short while and emerged, smoothing down his tunic and with skin apparently intact and bruise-free.

"Yes, Constable? Now, how can I help you?"

"I feel that it would be better to speak in a less public place, Doctor."

Bashir raised his eyebrows in mild surprise but gestured towards one of the examination rooms. "This should be private enough…" His voice sounded bewildered.

Odo nodded and led the way into the small room. He sat down and narrowed his eyes as Julian stood in front of him looking slightly worried.

"Doctor. I am a little concerned about… certain company you keep," Odo began.

"Company? I'm not sure that I follow, Constable."

"A certain… _Cardassian_ tailor…"

"You mean Garak?"

"Do we have any other Cardassian tailors on board the station?"

Julian opened his mouth to answer, but then closed it again. Odo was somehow managing to get a look on his face which suggested to the doctor that keeping his mouth shut and saying nothing was the best answer. 

"Dr Bashir, have you ever heard of the Obsidian Order?"

Julian shook his head and slid into the chair on the opposite side of the desk.

"Well, Doctor. The Obsidian Order are the major intelligence agency on Cardassia. They are an organisation whose remit is to gather information and to archive it. Their methods of data acquisition are dubious in the extreme and they are known through the entire Quadrant as ruthless and all seeing. It is an organisation feared by all, Cardassians and non-Cardassians alike. Even the Romulan _Tal Shiar_ fades into insignificance in comparison. I believe that Garak may be involved with the Obsidian Order in some way."

Julian's eyes had grown wide and staring as Odo had delivered his speech.

"The… Obsidian Order?" repeated Julian, his voice emerging as a slightly breathy gasp.

Odo nodded and gave a quiet grunt of agreement.

"Obsidian… Order…" said Julian.

"Yes, Doctor."

"O… O… ?" 

Odo found his features falling into what _solids_ tended to call a "frown".

" **Yes** , Doctor."

"O…O… Double O… Like Double O seven… 007… James Bond!! Odo, do they have a license to kill?"

"No, Doctor. They don't need one."

Odo stared incredulously at the Human who was positively fizzing with barely restrained excitement.

_"Jabara to Bashir."_ came the voice from the comms badge.

"Bashir here."

_"Doctor. The Council members have arrived early and are in Meeting Room 4 waiting to start the talks"_

"Thank you, Nurse Jabara. I'll be right there. Sorry Constable, I'm going to have to dash." Julian got as far as the door and span round dramatically, one hand raised slightly as though holding an invisible gun, his index and middle finger mimicking the barrel. He cricked his trigger finger then raised the 'finger-gun' to his lips and blew on it. Grinning manically, he left the room. 

"Harrumph!" said Odo. That headache was returning…

Odo activated his comms link and scheduled a meeting with Commander Sisko before heading for his quarters and the peace of his bucket. It had been a very trying day and it was nowhere near over...

****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: Revelations and socks... Oh, and Garak being embarrassed...


	6. Especially the Lies...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Garak is called to explain his recent activities to Commander Sisko.
> 
> Garak worries...
> 
> Julian makes a choice...

Commander Benjamin Sisko sat in his office, rolling an ancient baseball around in his hands. It was an activity which he lapsed into during moments of stress and, at this moment, he was facing his Chief of Security and was feeling very stressed indeed. 

Odo had scheduled a meeting but was reticent about letting him know what it was about, saying that he would rather discuss the matter in private but that it did, in his view, constitute a threat to station security. When the security chief had marched into his office and said "It concerns Garak and his recent activities," Sisko had groaned inwardly and settled down, baseball in hand, to hear what Odo had to say.

Sisko sighed. He'd always had his own doubts about the Cardassian tailor. He leant forwards and placed the baseball into its holder on the desk before looking up at the Changeling with a hint of a frown. 

"Constable, I know Mr Garak's presence on the station is a cause for concern, but this seems a little far-fetched. Are you certain that you have your facts right?" 

Odo threw him a look which managed to be both indignant and incredulous at the same time. Sisko raised a hand in a pacifying manner and picked up the padd which Odo had just placed in front of him, a smooth and almost featureless finger tapping the screen for emphasis.

"See for yourself, Commander. And these are only the things we know about. I'm sure more instances could be found… given time." 

"Very well, Constable. Have Mr Garak escorted to my office." 

"And Dr Bashir?"

"I'd rather hear what our plain and simple tailor has to say for himself first. If I feel that we need Dr Bashir's input then we can ask him to join us."

Odo gave a slow nod of the head and left Sisko gazing thoughtfully at the padd in front of him, reading the notes made by Odo. He reached for the baseball again and sat in contemplation. He had to admit that the facts in front of him were damning as described, but he was left with a niggling feeling of doubt in his mind. Although he hadn't known the Cardassian for very long, he was almost certain that he was not the sort of man to make such blatant errors, though this sudden alliance with Julian Bashir _did_ give him worries. Still, the Cardassian should be allowed to put his side of the story. It was only fair. 

His thoughts were interrupted by the appearance of Odo with one indignant looking Cardassian held between two armed Bajoran security officers who, Sisko reflected, looked quite happy to be able to use slightly more force than was strictly necessary to restrain the man. Behind them, Sisko could see a selection of wide-eyed watchers at their stations in Ops. He was pretty sure that Kira and O'Brien were smiling.

"Mr Garak! Thank you for joining us." said Sisko. He glanced at Odo who was wearing an expression that could only be described as smug. "Constable, I feel that we can dispense with the security detail for now. I'm sure Mr Garak would appreciate at least being able to move his arms."

Odo flashed him a look which suggested that he, personally, could not see why, but nodded to the Bajorans and signalled them to wait outside the office door.

"I don't believe that I had an option, Commander," muttered Garak, making a show of brushing the creases out of his tunic sleeves and examining a scuff mark on the cuff of one of them. "A mere verbal request would have sufficed!" he grumbled, throwing a bitter look towards the Head of Security.

Sisko gave a slight nod of what Garak assumed to be agreement and apology. 

"Might one ask, Commander, what is the reason for this… unwarranted display of force?" Garak straightened up and fixed Sisko with a gimlet stare. 

Sisko gestured towards a chair and waited for the Cardassian to settle into it before answering his question. 

"The Constable has brought a few issues of concern to my notice. I thought it politic to discuss them with you before deciding whether any action should be taken."

Sisko's voice was calm as always, but Garak knew that this man was no fool. One word from him and remaining on the space station would not be a guaranteed thing. And, since the events of the previous night, staying on DS9 had become a major priority. Garak inclined his head in acquiescence and allowed a more benevolent smile to attach itself to his face.

"By all means feel free to discuss anything you care to. I am at your disposal, Commander."

Sisko leant back in his chair and flicked a glance to the padd on his desk. He drew in a deep breath and began…

"As you are no doubt aware, we constantly monitor communications throughput both to and from the station…"

Garak nodded and refrained from comment. Sisko continued…

"And Constable Odo was perturbed by a communication from yourself to Cardassia regarding the Obsidian Order…"

"Really, Commander. I have no idea to what you are referring. The Obsidian Order?" Garak had adopted the wide-eyed innocent look which made Sisko automatically inclined to disbelieve anything which came from his mouth in response. 

Odo let out a gusty sigh, which Garak and Sisko both found to be quite a feat for an organism which, they assumed, needed no lungs and did not actually 'breathe' in the same way that they did.

"Garak, you contacted a quasi-governmental trading complex on Cardassia Prime and asked to talk to an individual regarding, and I quote, 'The Obsidian Order'. Of course, I can read back the entire conversation transcript if you would like me to do so…" Odo muttered, a certain challenging note had crept into his tone.

"I'm sure there is no need, Constable…" Garak's smile became, if it were possible to do so, even more innocent. "I believe that I know the conversation to which you refer."

"A conversation with a certain Cardassian black-marketeer… Should your memory fail you…" added Odo sarcastically. Garak looked horrified at the implication. Odo wondered if the Cardassian could actually teach Quark a thing or two about facial expressions.

"Constable. You worked alongside my people for many years. I'm sure that I don't need to remind you about the Cardassian memory!" 

Sisko felt an edge in Garak's tone and interrupted rapidly.

"Gentlemen… The issue in hand, if you please!"

Garak subsided and the smile returned. 

"It is quite simple to explain, Commander. Recently, I received a commission for a Syma-thit'l bridal outfit, a particularly nice customer I should add, very knowledgeable and open to suggestions about the outfit. I did think that she should…"

"If we could stay on the subject…" Sisko interjected. 

"Of course, Commander. I apologise… That particular commission required a large amount of bead work and I had placed an order with my supplier which included a quantity of obsidian beads," Garak gave Odo a slightly condescending glance as he added, "which I'm certain Constable Odo can easily verify from his no doubt copious records!"

Odo raised what passed for an eyebrow. Garak continued.

"When the order arrived, I undid it and discovered that part of the order was missing. The obsidian beads were not included. Naturally, I had to contact the supplier to ascertain the whereabouts of these items. I imagine that Constable Odo heard me enquiring about the obsidian order's whereabouts. " He turned and smiled at Odo with a slight tilt of the head. "Besides, Constable, would it _really_ be likely that the basic station channels would be used to contact the Order, should anyone actually be thinking of so doing? Which, as I have pointed out, I was not." 

Odo made a sort of grumbling sound and tapped the padd.

"The next issue is the meeting that you had with the Ylazian trader, Tu-prel…"

"Constable, I am a trader myself. There is nothing sinister about meeting with another trader, surely?" Garak gave his shoulders a slight shrug and held his hands out, palms up in a questioning gesture which he had noticed was quite often used by Humans to imply that they were unsure of something. 

"And," continued Odo in a voice which brooked no argument, "Tu-prel handed you an iso-linear rod which was not listed on our records of incoming data sets. Perhaps you would care to tell us what was on that rod, Garak, and where it is now."

Sisko frowned as he noticed a slight, a VERY slight hesitation before the Cardassian answered Odo's question. 

"A simple catalogue and a price list for his supplies, Constable. I wasn't aware of any law against receiving catal…"

"Interesting that when I spoke to Tu-prel, he didn't mention anything about any catalogue, or any price list." Odo interrupted. His voice had taken on a distinct purring quality, the predator which had finally cornered its prey and was determined to play with it before delivering the coup de grâce.

Garak had gone strangely rigid. 

"Can you expand on that, Mr Garak?" Sisko leant forward a little and frowned at the Cardassian.

"In fact," continued Odo, sensing victory of a sort, "Tu-prel was quite forthcoming with information about the iso-linear rod's contents. Perhaps you would like to explain why you were interested in a selection of Terran romance novels and a handful of textbooks about Human anatomy?"

Garak remained ominously silent. Sisko stared at him and wondered if he was imagining the slight darkening of the Cardassian's supra-orbital ridges. 

"No answer, Garak?" pressed Odo.

"As I am now forced to live amongst a wide range of peoples upon this station, Constable, I have become interested in Human psychology. Where better to learn the true nature of the Human psyche than by reading their literature and sharing the thoughts of the characters therein?" Garak managed a nonchalant smile at Odo although deep down he had to admit that even he was pushing it with that particular piece of reasoning. 

"And the anatomy texts? Could it be," growled Odo, leaning closer to the Cardassian in a slightly threatening manner, "that you were getting information as to the vulnerabilities of Humans so that you know exactly where to strike a lethal blow?"

"My dear Constable! What do you take me for? I am merely a tailor, plain and simple. I pose no threat to any on this station." Garak aimed another beatific smile towards Sisko, being very careful to avoid showing his teeth. Odo made a decidedly Human noise of frustration and paced around the office for a while. 

"Moving on, Gentlemen." Sisko was starting to get a stress headache and wanted nothing more than a few moments' peace and a large mug of raktajino… Maybe two large mugs… He was aware of the fact that Major Kira had walked past the door several times already, making it very clear that she was not actually trying to squint sideways to see what was happening inside. Several other members of staff were rubber-necking from their consoles.

"There's more?" Garak wanted to slump wearily down in his chair. This was getting ridiculous.

"Then there is the matter of the coded message sent to Cardassia just yesterday." Odo slammed a padd down onto the desk with what seemed to be unnecessary force. The screen was covered with Kardassi symbols and glyphs. 

"We found this message transmitted directly from YOUR personal comms link to a randomly alternating surface link on Cardassia Prime. Do you deny sending it?" 

Where had Odo learnt to gloat like that? Sisko rubbed his forehead and closed his eyes. Perhaps he would wake up in a moment and this would all just be a dream... 

"Of course I don't deny it. " Garak sounded somewhat chagrined. 

Sisko opened his eyes. They were still there. Not a dream then. He realised that Odo was staring at him expectantly.

"Perhaps you would like to explain yourself, Mr Garak," he suggested. 

Garak squirmed slightly and refused to meet his look. 

"I would rather not say, Commander. However, I can assure you that it is not a matter for Station Security to worry about." 

"I believe that I should be the judge of that, Mr Garak," Sisko muttered, tersely.

Garak sighed dramatically, rose to his feet and paced a few steps back and forth. 

"If you MUST know, it's a design."

Odo rolled his eyes and looked smug. Sisko retained an icy glare which was directed at the Cardassian. Garak noticed that the man had the ability to refrain from blinking and felt a moment of admiration for the Commander. He wondered whether he'd ever been trained in the more subtle interrogation techniques favoured by certain members of the elite groups on Cardassia.

"A… design…" Sisko looked dubious. "A design for what, exactly?" 

Garak's expression was verging on slightly embarrassed.

"Mr Garak! A design for what?!"

Garak mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like "Socks".

"Socks? Mr Garak, did you just say 'Socks'?" Sisko's nostrils flared slightly with the effort of keeping a straight face. Odo just stared. 

"Yes, Commander. Socks. It was a design for a set of socks in D'tarian wool blends which I had requested my mo… _friend_ knit for me. I… er… I find the temperature at ground level on the station to be quite unpleasant. I was hoping to alleviate the discomfort." Garak sounded mortified at the admission.

"Socks?" Sisko was still looking incredulous. Garak nodded. He didn't even risk a glance at Odo. 

Sisko leant back, unable to stop the grin which had crept onto his face at the thought of the Cardassian stomping around in garish knitted footwear. Surely, the whole idea seemed too ludicrous to be obfuscation on his part. He gestured towards the chair and waited for Garak to settle into it again.

Odo had stopped pacing and was standing at one end of the desk. His posture reflected his disbelief and annoyance. He prodded a finger at the padd agitatedly.

"And how do you explain the appearance of the word 'doctor' in the text? Hmmm?"

Garak flashed a look of irritation towards Odo.

"I was merely explaining that the coldness had led to me having to speak with the doctor about the cramps I was getting. Nothing more sinister, Constable, I assure you."

Odo harrumphed. Loudly. 

Garak carefully brushed an imaginary speck of dust from his sleeve and adjusted the cuffs, taking just enough time to ensure that Odo's impatience was beginning to boil over before he spoke.

"Well, Commander, I have answered your questions to the best of my ability. If I could be permitted to return to my sh…"

"Oh we're not quite finished… Garak!" interrupted Odo. 

"And how can I be of further service, Constable?" Garak's tone was sweet, his smile dissembling.

"Just one last thing.." Odo paused. Garak wasn't the only one who knew the importance of suspense. "There is the small question of your contact with Dr Bashir."

Sisko watched as the Cardassian's expression switched from nonchalance to what looked for a fleeting moment like panic. A small tendril of worry put out feelers in his mind. Had the Constable actually found a valid reason for concern?

"I really don't know what you.." Garak began to say. Odo leant closer and smiled grimly.

"Oh, I think you do, Garak. Don't think that it hasn't been noticed that you have singled him out and seem to be in his company a lot these days. Why would that be, Garak? Hmmm?"

"Constable, I don't know what you are suggesting, but…"

"Could it be that you are hoping that a young and gullible officer will be easily persuaded to pass on Starfleet information, perchance?"

Sisko continued to watch the Cardassian's face. Up until that point, all questions had simply resulted in a serene smile and a plausible response. This time though… This time there was no smile, no glib reply. No answer, obfuscation or otherwise. The Cardassian simply sat motionless, staring at his hands. A sign of guilt? Or was there something else?

"Well, Garak?" Odo pressed on. "Nothing to say? I _AM_ surprised…"

A fleeting glance. Just one. A look directly at the Constable and then back to his hands again. 

"Well, Mr Garak?" Sisko asked, his voice a clear contrast to the aggressive tone of the Head of Security.

Still no reply. Sisko frowned. He glanced at Odo. "Constable, would you give me a moment with Mr Garak, please?"

Odo's expression was one of clear annoyance. He approximated a scowl before nodding his acquiescence and leaving the room, casting a glare towards the Cardassian as he left.

"Mr Garak…"

Garak raised his eyes. "Commander."

"I can let the other issues pass, I can even accept your explanations, but I do have concerns about this one. Constable Odo isn't the only one to have noticed that you are spending more time with Dr Bashir, it's something that I have seen myself."

"Really, Commander. Is Starfleet so pitifully self absorbed? Can it dictate who its personnel can and cannot associate with?"

"In some instances, yes, it can."

Garak gave a small huff of disgust. "I can assure you, Commander, I have no interest whatsoever in obtaining Starfleet information."

Sisko noted that the Cardassian looked him directly in the eye as he spoke and filed the response as a lie. 

"Not even for the Obsidian Order?"

Garak sighed loudly. "Commander, we have already covered this… I am not involved with the Obsidian Order."

Again, the look was direct. 

"Hmmm. Yet I find myself, Mr Garak, asking why the sudden interest in my CMO?"

And this time those blue eyes were apparently unable to meet his, looking instead towards the door and the figures outside. The Cardassian was definitely uncomfortable. Sisko was about to continue when a thought pushed its way into his head. He was reminded of the time he had questioned Jake about his first girlfriend and had been mildly amused when the boy had been unable to look him in the eye. He found himself smiling at the memory, and at the implications for the current conversation. It would explain the contents of the iso-linear rod at least.

"Mr Garak… I intend to speak to Dr Bashir regarding this matter later today. I am not of a mind to dictate who my officers choose as… friends," he inclined his head slightly as the Cardassian's eyes once again met his. "But I will say this, and heed me well. If I hear _anything_ that makes me question this policy in regard to your friendship with my staff and if it appears that your friendship is likely to damage his ability to perform his Starfleet duties then believe me, Mr Garak, I shall not be so lenient. Do you understand me?"

The Cardassian remained silent, but gave a polite bow of the head in acknowledgement. Sisko beckoned Odo to return and waited for the doors to hiss shut behind him. He was intensely aware of the intrigued glances in their direction from the entire Ops team.

"Constable. I have spoken to Mr Garak about our concerns and I am satisfied that there is no further action needed at this time."

Odo opened his mouth to speak but thought the better of it and settled for an exasperated sigh and a grunt.

"Then, gentlemen, that will be all for now. Thank you both for your time."

Odo stalked out of the office and once through the door, span to face Garak and leant close.

"You might have managed to fool Commander Sisko this time, Garak, but I shall be watching you! Just remember that!"

"Really, Constable. Do you honestly think that if an agent of the... _Obsidian Order_ … wanted to get information to Cardassia he would use an easily monitored unsecured channel? How delightfully naïve. Now, please do forgive me rushing away, but I have work to do… Tailoring work, that is… " He gave the Constable a polite smile and headed for the turbolift, ignoring the intrigued gazes of the Ops team as he weaved his way past them. He fancied that he could feel their eyes following him.

****

Later that night, Garak stood in his quarters and stared out of the porthole at a distant star field. His thoughts had drifted, as they often did, to his home world and a feeling of loss twisted through his gut. Loss not only for his beloved Cardassia, but also for a warmth which had come into his life recently and which, for a while, had pushed the coldness of exile away.

His discussions with the Commander and Odo had meant that he had missed his lunch and so had missed his meeting with the doctor. The young officer hadn't been in touch at all for the rest of the afternoon and, as he had closed his shop and headed back to his quarters, Garak had to face the possibility that the doctor's discussion with the Commander had been sufficient to scare him away from any further contact. The fact that it was now late and there was still no word from the doctor was rapidly turning that possibility into probability. After all, Starfleet was Julian Bashir's life and he wasn't going to risk his career for any further tumbles with an aging Cardassian tailor… or spy…

Garak sighed. It hurt.

There had been something so attractive about the Human. Not just his appearance, but his manner. In just a small space of time he had managed to make the Cardassian feel wanted… Valued even… He hadn't felt that from another person since… Well, since a long time ago. It had hurt then too. He'd chastised himself back then for allowing feelings to rule his actions and sworn that it wasn't going to happen again. 

So much for that promise…

His thoughts were interrupted by the door chime. He debated ignoring it. He didn't want to speak to anyone, especially if it was some customer dropping by on the off chance that their clothes were ready for collection. 

The chime sounded again. With a curse, Garak opened the door.

And stared.

Honey-gold skin. Hazel eyes full of hope…

"Well… are you going to invite me in?" Julian stood nervously at the threshold of Garak's quarters.

"Doctor! I… Yes… I'm sorry… Please, come in… " Garak stepped back and gestured Julian into the room.

"I hope you don't mind me just dropping in like this. I wanted to apologise for not getting to see you earlier today. I... er… I had a talk with Commander Sisko. He seemed worried about us. He told me that Odo thinks you might be using me to gain information about Starfleet."

Garak found himself clenching his hands into fists as he waited for the inevitable words… Confirmation of Julian's decision to step away in order to ensure that his career didn't suffer. 

He was not expecting to find a soft hand reaching up and tracing gentle fingers along the ridges of his jaw, or to find himself walked slowly backwards until his back was firmly pressed against the wall. 

"And…?" Garak managed to mutter, his mind more focused on the fingers now pinching his neck ridges than on the formation of complete sentences.

"And…" Julian leant in and gave an experimental nip with his teeth, relishing the gentle gasp that it provoked. "… he just reminded me to…" Another nip, another gasp… "be careful what I talk about…" 

"Aaaaaahhhh," was the response, although whether this was agreement or just an expression of pleasure was debatable at that moment.

"Not to mention…" _nip_ … "that there is surely…" _nuzzle_ … "no problem just talking to a…" _nip_ … "plain and simple tailor…" _Bite_.

Any doubt that may have been in Garak's mind about the continuation of their relationship vaporised in that moment. He held his breath as Julian moved even closer, pressing the length of his body against the now shivering Cardassian. 

"Are you cold, Garak?" he murmured, allowing his teeth to skim Garak's shoulder scales and enjoying the sound which the Cardassian made in response.

"N…n…n...no," Garak managed to say. The doctor's fingers were gently working to undo the clasps of his tunic, pushing fabric aside to reveal more scaled, grey skin, which was systematically kissed and nipped. Julian nuzzled a trail up Garak's neck and whispered softly in his ear…

" _Issk'yr g'tukran Ur'm_ …" It was slightly faltering, but recognisable as Kardassi. 

Garak put a hand on each of the doctor's shoulders and pushed him back slightly. A perplexed look had replace the one of desire which had been there only seconds before.

"Are you sure, Doctor?"

"Yes… I… erm… I think so…" Julian sounded hesitant.

"Only you just asked me to show you my pantry." 

"What?"

"A _g'tukran_ is a pantry. I don't have one… Unless, of course, that is one of your delightful Human euphemisms for some part of the anatomy."

"No! No it isn't." Julian blushed and gave an embarrassed cough. 

Garak gave him a serious look, but was unable to prevent the slight twitch of his lips as he spoke.

"I suspect, my dear Doctor, that the word you intended to use is _g'tykrin_ which means 'bedroom' and should be spoken with this gesture. Garak made a small movement with his hand.

" _Issk'yr g'tykrin Ur'm_ ," muttered Julian, a slight blush spreading across his cheeks. That was the last time he would ever believe anything which came via Quark. He should have known that the Ferengi's " _1001 Useful Phrases Whilst Travelling in Cardassia_ " would be liable to misinterpretation and certainly not worth the 3 strips of latinum which had been passed over the bar in exchange for the slightly tatty padd-book.

" _Os, am'Arad y'm_ " murmured the Cardassian in response, gently taking Julian by the hand and leading him across the room to the open door of the sleeping area. He stood aside and gestured for the doctor to enter the room first. Something about the action was so intimate, so trusting, that it made Julian's stomach flip. 

Julian was not surprised to find that the room was immaculate, with colour co-ordinated fabrics and soft lighting. But really, how could Garak's bedroom be anything else? He took the two steps needed to re-establish the contact between them, the rumbling growl from the Cardassian's chest seeming to reverberate through his entire body, lightly scaled fingers seeking out soft, golden skin and tracing the contours of his body with a growing urgency. 

In the corner of the room, the secondary bulkhead shimmered slightly in the low-level lighting. It did its best to ignore the sight of clothes being strewn across the room and of two bodies crashing onto the bed, limbs entwining to the accompanying sound of snarling hisses and a selection of Terran expletives which he had only ever heard once before. That had been when Chief O'Brien had reversed his backside onto a live plasma coil in one of the power conduits and the air had turned quite blue.

Solids… The bulkhead gave a mental harrumph and settled down on surveillance. 

He had a feeling that it was going to be a long night… But he could wait… It would only be a matter of time before the Cardassian made a mistake… Showed his true colours… And then…

****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The End...
> 
> Once again my thanks to Syaunei who has been a fantastic support during my first venture into writing for this fandom. The Regnar salutes you!
> 
> And thank you to everyone who left kudos and took time to write such entertaining comments. Really, you are all terrific!


End file.
